


Interruptions

by cobain_cleopatra



Series: Little Crow Oneshots [7]
Category: Dishonored (Video Games)
Genre: Dishonored AU, Fluff, Grumpy Daud, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Sexual Content, Oblivious Thomas, Sexual Tension, Snarky Corvo, whaler Corvo, younger Corvo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-02
Updated: 2016-12-02
Packaged: 2018-09-03 19:33:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,344
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8727487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cobain_cleopatra/pseuds/cobain_cleopatra
Summary: After Corvo's return to Rudshore, things between them change.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Set between chapter 3 and chapter 4 of Singing Whale.

How easy it would be to take Thomas’s throat and _squeeze._ Of all the moments he could have arrived with news of Stride’s whereabouts, news Daud had been waiting days to hear, it had to be _then._ Daud’s temptation to strangle something had never been stronger.

He found himself scowling at his second in command from time to time, even as Thomas reported his findings proficiently as ever. Stride was in Coldridge. That certainly came as a surprise. The Captain was smart, smarter than any other street boss Daud had come across throughout his years in Dunwall. She wouldn’t have been caught by mere accident. Someone must have tipped off the Watch.

 _Just as Billie and Delilah had done for the Overseers_ , Daud thought bitterly. Billie’s betrayal still stung, but the burning ache of grief was slowly easing. More so with Corvo’s return.

“If we’re going to get her out, we’ll need better knowledge of the prison’s interior,” Thomas explained, laying out a large map of Coldridge’s checkpoints. He started circling certain areas, drawing arrows to others. “This is the entrance. They’re playing Overseer music over the loudspeakers, as the result of a recent incident in the interrogation chamber. Our abilities may be hindered until we get inside.”

While Thomas went on, Daud’s attention strayed to Corvo, not for the first time that day. The relief that surged at the sight of him bordered on painful; Daud’s breath abandoned him each time he was reminded Corvo was back. Not unharmed, but alive. The burn scars that marred the man’s jaw made it clear how his last week had been spent. Anger, raw and ruthless, surfaced at the image of him trapped in Holger Square, at the mercy of the cultists.

“Sir?”

Daud cleared his throat. “Continue,” he ordered gruffly, though he wasn’t entirely sure what Thomas had said. The Whaler returned to pointing out the guard stations and cell blocks. Daud returned his gaze to Corvo.

What would Daud have done–

He almost laughed at himself, cutting the question off before it had even fully formed. Had Thomas taken a minute longer to enter the office, Daud knew full well what he would have done. Another image surfaced; his fingers in Corvo’s hair, teeth at his neck, the man’s thighs hitched around his hips.

“Apparently Barrister Timsh is being held there, same wing as Stride,” Daud vaguely registered Thomas saying. “Though I’m not certain exactly which wing. All the cells are controlled from one place now.”

The Whaler’s voice soon began to filter out again, and Corvo must have sensed he was being watched. His eyes warily travelled up, noticing Daud’s attention. He instinctively glanced down at the new mark on his hand.

Daud barely resisted the urge to sigh. _I’m looking at you, you fool, not your damned mark_ , he scolded gently in his head.

When Corvo realised this was the case, he looked away and let his hair fall forward. The flush that began to spread the length of his cheekbones was almost hidden. Outsider’s eyes, Daud had never wanted to kiss someone more.

“I, uh... Master Daud? What would you recommend?”

Daud scowled Thomas’s way. “About what?”

Thomas blinked, glancing bemusedly between him and Corvo. “About... about the plan, Sir? To extract Stride?”

Daud swiftly realised he hadn’t listened to a word Thomas had said. He cleared his throat, to quash his own embarrassment, and struggled for a response.

“I have a way in,” Corvo cut in, saving him. “At Holger Square, I overheard an Overseer saying someone would be investigating the incident. Let’s look into that.”

Thomas gave a nod, still frowning between them, and continued to talk. Corvo scuffed his heel on the floorboards, chewing on the inside of his mouth. A habit, Daud knew, when the man was self-conscious. Daud tried to focus on Thomas’ words. His gaze inevitably wandered, as did Corvo’s; the both of them trading glances and a mutual desire for Thomas to leave the room.

He didn’t, and each retired to their respective beds, alone.

***

Corvo cracked an eye open. It was too early, and far too bright. The cells beneath the High Overseer’s Office didn’t have windows; no light, no means of escape. No proper beds either. Corvo felt the mattress beneath him, and the covers shrouding him in lazy warmth, and immediately fell asleep again.

His hazy mind wandered to the night before. He didn’t remember leaving Daud’s office, or making his way to his own bed; rumpled and unmade from when he had last slept there a week ago. He remembered Daud’s gaze, the way his eyes had roamed over him for the remainder of the evening. He remembered Daud’s hand on his jaw. Lips pressed against his hair, and then his forehead, and then–

He remembered wanting to shoot Thomas, despite his fondness for the man. Corvo’s brows arched irritably in his sleep.

When he next roused, the sun was no longer assaulting his window. Instead, there was heavy cloud cover looming above the District, bringing with it scatterings of rainfall.

“Go back to sleep.”

Corvo blearily pushed himself half upright. Rulfio was slouched on the windowsill, cradling a steaming mug between his hands.

“What–” Corvo’s throat felt raw, and he swallowed painfully before making another attempt at speaking. “What time is it?”

“It’s still early.” Rulfio glanced down, expression soft, and he tugged the covers back over him. “Go back to sleep. Don’t mind me,” he added. “I’m a sentimental old man, remember? I was just making sure you were alright.”

Corvo wriggled back into the open, shivering against the room’s chill, but determined not to retreat back beneath the covers. “I want to get up.”

Rulfio looked tempted to argue, but he held his tongue while Corvo slipped on his boots, and caught him steady when he staggered onto his feet.

“Stubborn idiot.”

“Hungry,” Corvo corrected, his voice sounding a little smoother than before, now he was standing. “Food’s a good motivator to stay awake.”

“True. Although you already ate half the kitchen last night, if you recall,” Rulfio remarked, but his tone was more sympathetic than teasing.

He kept a strong hold on Corvo’s arm, making sure he didn’t topple over, before Corvo brushed him off.

“I can walk,” he insisted. “I’m fine. Drop the pity.”

Rulfio chuckled as they left the room and walked down the corridor. Corvo could hear the commotion coming from the kitchen. Boisterous arguing, clattering, Arden’s voice distinguishing itself loudly. His chest felt remarkably heavy at the familiar sounds; sounds he’d convinced himself he’d never hear again.

The second he and Rulfio were through the door, someone crashed into him and wrapped their arms around his middle. Corvo stumbled backwards, before awkwardly returning Galia’s embrace.

“We all thought you were gone for good, you stupid bastard.” Her insult was muffled against him. Corvo felt her warm tears on his shoulder.

“Not that I’m complaining,” Jordan began, approaching and carefully prying Galia from him, noticing Corvo’s growing discomfort. “But how are you alive?”

“Who cares, idiot?” Galia sobbed. “He’s fucking alive, don’t question it.”

“Come here.” Jordan pulled her closer with an arm around her shoulder. Galia buried her face against his shirt, smearing snot across the fabric. He kissed the top of her head. “Disgusting.”

“Shut up.” Galia proceeded to smile at Corvo. “Rinaldo told us you were back. I tried to come see you last night,” she said, glaring up at Rulfio, “but this asshole wouldn’t let us into the dorm.”

“He needed rest,” the older Whaler retorted. “I know you lot; rowdy bastards wouldn’t have given him a moment’s peace.”

Galia grumbled something, but didn’t deny it. She gave Corvo another, slightly brighter smile. “We have a few jobs to get done around here, so we’ll let you get some food.” She made for another hug, but stopped herself. “See you later?”

Corvo nodded.

Jordan began steering Galia away. He rested a hand on Corvo’s arm as they passed. “Glad you’re okay.”

“Thanks.” Corvo watched them go, then felt a mug and plate shoved into his hands, and a strong palm smack down on his shoulder.

“C’mon,” Arden grinned, pushing him towards one of the tables. “Lazy fucker, sleepin’ all morning.”

Quinn and the boatman were already sat talking, and Rulfio was shaking his head at whatever the younger Whaler was saying.

Corvo’s nerves spiked when he saw Daud, Thomas seated at his side and scowl firmly in place. They seemed to seek each other out, locking eyes across the crowded space. Corvo swiftly dropped his gaze and focused on the coffee mug in his hands. Their moment alone the evening before flashed in his head, and he couldn’t prevent a shiver when he slid into the chair opposite Daud.

“Are you cold?”

Corvo tried not to glare at Quinn. “Get off,” he muttered, when the Whaler tried to put a hand to his forehead.

“How are you feeling?” Daud’s voice was strangely soft, and the way he was looking at Corvo, genuine compassion plain on his face, was enough to cause another shiver.

“I’m fine,” Corvo answered.

“You do look better this morning, sir,” Samuel said with a small smile. “Certainly better rested than yesterday.”

Corvo suspected he looked anything but, but he appreciated the boatman’s effort.

“Nah, ain’t no point flatterin’ him,” Arden cut in, getting the words out around a mouthful of blood sausage. “He looks like shit.”

Rulfio kicked the Whaler’s shin under the table. “I’m surprised he got any rest at all,” he remarked. He had his eyes narrowed at Daud and Thomas. “With all the planning you had him do last night.”

“He insisted on staying,” Thomas said.

“And it’s good I did,” Corvo added. “I know a way into Coldridge, so we should have Stride by the end of the week.” He gave Rulfio’s leg a gentle nudge with his boot. “I’m alright. Really. You don’t have to keep worrying about me.”

“I know I don’t,” Rulfio admitted. “Outsider’s eyes, you really aren’t that little brat I met ten years ago, are you.”

Corvo shook his head.

“Well, not so little, but still a brat,” Rulfio added, gaining mumbles of agreement from the other Whalers. Samuel continued picking at his plate of food and listening to them all, completely at ease among them.

“I’m not that bad,” Corvo muttered.

Rulfio scoffed, but said nothing more. Corvo paid him no mind anyway, after he noticed Quinn staring at the mark on his left hand.

“So it’s true?”

Corvo blinked. “You already know?”

Hearing a growl across the table, Quinn grimaced, looking at Daud sheepishly. “Sorry, Sir.”

Daud sighed through his nose. “After Thomas returned with his news last night, I asked Rinaldo to let the men know.”

Corvo remembered, not long after they had started planning Stride’s extraction last night, Daud had left the office for a time. Corvo had been so tired, he’d barely noticed.

“To which I remember ordering all of you not to bring the matter up,” Daud added, scowling at Quinn.

The Whaler gave a nervous grin. “In my defence, boss, he probably would have told me anyway.”

“Me too,” Arden said, nicking a piece of bread from Corvo’s plate and shoving it into his mouth.

Quinn ignored Daud’s glare, and grinned at Corvo. “So did he talk to you?”

“Who?”

“Who,” Arden chuckled.

“The Outsider!” Quinn said eagerly. “Come on, what does the mark feel like? What was _he_ like?”

“You’re an idiot,” Corvo said fondly.

“Did he tell you all the secrets of the universe?”

“Leave him be Quinn,” Rulfio sighed.

Quinn ignored him, and peered around the kitchen dramatically. “Is he watching us right now? Can you see him?”

“Quinn,” Daud warned. His sterner tone seemed to settle the Whaler down a little.

Corvo had been worried about revealing his mark to the others, hence telling Daud first. He knew Daud, someone with his own mark and the unwanted attention that came with it, would understand. But the men knew now, it seemed, and if Quinn’s excited chattering was anything to go by, they’d be treating Corvo no differently for it.

He felt a weight lift from him at the knowledge, and finally let himself eat. Quinn continued to talk nonstop, while Arden and Rulfio bickered at one another across the table. Samuel sipped his tea contentedly at Corvo’s side, exchanging a word with Thomas now and again.

It was then Corvo registered the contact against his calf. His and Daud’s legs were practically crossed over one another beneath the table, and had been since he had taken a seat. Corvo hadn’t realised until that moment.

When he felt heat crawling up his neck, he busied himself with tapping the rim of his mug.

“Hey, do you have a fever or something?” This time, Quinn managed to smack his palm against Corvo’s forehead. “First you’re all shaky, now you’re burning up. What’s wrong with you?”

Corvo elbowed him away, feeling himself redden further. “Get off.” He slunk down in his chair, letting Quinn call him a moody bastard as he glared into his coffee.

He didn’t move his leg from Daud’s until breakfast had finished.

***

Daud was allowing the fleabags to stay. He was having a difficult time recalling _why._

The four wolfhounds they had rescued during the surge had been with them for just over a week. And yet they had wreaked endless havoc throughout the Chamber. The makeshift cages Andrei suggested they use couldn’t hold them, as the beasts’ continuous escape attempts were proving.

Daud snapped his pen in half when one of them burst through the doors.

“No!” His sharp tone did nothing to prevent the oncoming attack, and the wolfhound slammed into him, its front paws colliding with Daud’s chest. He shoved the animal back onto all fours. “Get out,” he growled.

The hound did little more than pant up at him, hunkering down on its hind legs in preparation to pounce again.

“No,” Daud warned again, before it lunged forwards and caught the edge of his boot between its teeth. “Outsider’s eyes, nothing but wastes of space, all of you,” he bit out, managing to shake the beast off.

It soon busied itself prowling around the office, sniffing every nook its snout would fit into. Daud sank back into the chair, just resisting the urge to bang his head repeatedly on the desk. Anything to ease the frustration the hounds were causing him. Instead, he found a new, unbroken pen, and tried to concentrate on the reports Thomas had given him on Coldridge prison. He found himself peering up every other minute, keeping a wary eye on his unwelcome canine companion.

When the doors opened again a few minutes later, Daud felt his jaw clench, a warning ready between his teeth in case it was another hound. The sight of Corvo had all threats dying in his throat.

“Thomas and Arden are getting the–” The Whaler stopped when he saw the wolfhound, now sniffing around Daud’s bookshelf.

Unfamiliar with Corvo’s scent, the beast froze when it spotted him, ears pricking up.

“It won’t hurt you,” Daud assured, scowling at the creature as though to enforce his words. “Though it might infuriate you to death.” He realised, with Corvo having only just returned to Rudshore, he wouldn’t have known about the creatures’ presence there.

“Where’d they come from?” Corvo knelt down as the hound padded towards him. It butted its head against the Whaler’s shoulder, whining happily at the attention it had earlier been denied from Daud.

“The Overseers.” Daud put his pen down to one side, watching with a strange sense of endearment as the hound melted under Corvo’s hands. “Andrei suggested they may be useful lookouts. I’m more tempted to have them made into coats for the winter.”

Corvo hummed a response, occupied with keeping the hound from smothering him; the beast kept crawling onto his lap. Daud found himself grasping at whatever else he’d been about to say. Corvo’s expression was uncharacteristically open. His eyes were normally icy, like the storms that frequented Tyvia. They were warm as Serkonan brandy now, as he let the hound curl around his legs.

Daud swallowed, and noted his voice was rough when he spoke. “What were you here to tell me? About Arden and Thomas.”

Corvo got to his feet. The hound trotted after him as he approached the desk. “They’re abducting the Overseer that was summoned to Coldridge. Said they’d return with him by this morning.”

Daud gave a short nod, checking the light through the window. Almost sunrise, which meant the pair would likely be returning soon.

He looked back, and narrowed his eyes at the hound. It sat at Corvo’s feet, panting smugly while the Whaler scratched its ear. “Irritating things,” he muttered.

“How many are there?”

“Too many.” Daud swore the hound purred just to spite him as it nuzzled against Corvo’s thigh. “Four. Andrei made kennels beneath the old accounting building. Mutts keep breaking loose just to terrorise me.”

Corvo knelt to the creature’s height again, letting it push its snout into his chest. “They don’t seem so bad.”

Daud’s focus abandoned him once again, as Corvo raked his fingers through the beast’s coarse fur. It struck him suddenly, making anticipation clench in his gut, that this was the first time they had been alone since the night of Corvo’s return, a few days ago.

He snapped back to attention when Corvo beckoned him down. “Come here.”

An order, clearly, and if it had been any other of his men making it, Daud would have barked at them to know their place. But it wasn’t. So Daud pushed the chair back and rounded the desk, kneeling beside Corvo until the hound’s head was at shoulder level.

“I imagine they go here because they see you as the pack leader,” Corvo told him.

It could have been teasing, but teasing didn’t strike him as the kind of thing Corvo would do. The man was far too blunt for mannerisms like that.

“Acknowledge them,” Corvo continued. “They’ll probably leave you alone once you do.”

Daud noticed the Whaler glance a few times at his hand, before reaching to take it. The movement was cautious, unsure, before he guided Daud’s fingers to rest behind the wolfhound’s ear. Daud gave the beast a tentative scratch. He glowered when it left Corvo’s space and began to occupy his instead. Still, Daud took the advice, and continued scratching. He even let the beast lick the edge of his sleeve before deciding enough was enough for one day.

“Alright. Away with you,” he grunted. He was stunned when the hound did as it was told; after a yawn and a long stretch, it padded out of the doors. Daud stared after its retreating form. “How did you know that would work?”

“The novices do the same thing,” Corvo answered. “They want your attention, and won’t leave until they get it. I’ve seen them. Thought the same might work with hounds.”

Daud was a little embarrassed that he’d never noticed the novices acting that way before. He got to his feet, and after a second or two of internal debate, he offered his hand to Corvo. The Whaler took it and allowed himself to be pulled up. They were standing close now, too close for Daud to ignore the way Corvo’s hair only just hid the sharp line of his jaw, or how his dark eyes kept flitting to Daud’s mouth.

Daud decided to address the former of the two issues first. He gently brushed Corvo’s hair back from his shoulder, taking in the burn scars marring his jaw. The sight of them still caused Daud’s chest to ache; the thought of someone touching Corvo that way was unforgivable. “This is my fault.”

Corvo took his wrist, preventing his fingers from touching the marks. Yet he didn’t push him away either. “I don’t see it like that.”

“You wouldn’t have been taken there at all, if I’d just listened–”

“Billie was important to you.” Corvo turned his face into Daud’s palm slightly, jaw grazing his gloves. Daud felt the warmth of his skin through the fabric. “Don’t blame yourself for wanting to trust her.”

Daud thread his fingers into Corvo’s hair, his other hand coming to angle the man’s jaw up to him. “ _You’re_ important, damn you,” he said, quietly, frustratedly. “I should have trusted you.”

Corvo’s tongue wet his lips. Daud’s eyes traced the movement. “You trusted me with the wolfhound.” Now that was teasing, Daud had no doubt. “That’s a start.”

They were alone. They were alone, and Corvo was in front of him, maddening and mere inches away. Daud’s hands were in his hair, Corvo’s hand was on his forearm, keeping him in place. Daud had forgotten about the swiftly rising sun when his thumb brushed over Corvo’s lower lip, so close–

The sound of a transversal had Corvo backing out of his arms.

“Sir.” Daud didn’t look at the arrival. He was too busy debating whether or not to go for his sword. “The Overseer’s at the Grieves Refinery, in one of the holding cells. Arden says he should wake soon, for interrogation.”

He managed to bite out a thank you at his second in command. The rest of Daud’s morning was spent cursing Thomas’ name, and watching Corvo from an insufferable distance away.

***

Corvo prowled into the training room, causing Rulfio to look up from his work. The Whaler had been back almost a week now, but the signs of torture marking his face still came as a shock. The burns looked deep. Whoever had inflicted them wasn’t one for mercy or restraint, Rulfio could tell.

Still, he knew the kid wouldn’t appreciate sympathy, and pity even less so. So Rulfio merely offered him an amused smile. “Don’t you look happy.”

Corvo glared at his sarcastic tone. “Do you need help with anything in here?”

Rulfio shot the younger Whaler a raised brow. “You’re offering to help me? You _are_ the right Corvo Attano, aren’t you?”

“I don’t want to be around anyone else right now.”

Rulfio softened, and tossed him one of the practice blades. “Start tying that cloth around the handles,” he instructed, motioning to a pile of fabrics on the windowsill. “The grip on these things is starting to wear. Can’t have anymore pups dropping swords on their feet. Once training starts back up, of course.”

Corvo did as he was told, perching on the windowsill and efficiently weaving the cloth around the blade’s hilt. “Training’s stopped?”

Rulfio nodded. “Daud’s had everyone looking for Stride. Or at least brushing up on their knowledge of witches, in case some turn up here. He won’t let the novices set foot out of Rudshore. To be honest, I’m amazed he’s let anyone out of his sight.”

“He’s worried.”

“Of course he’s worried.” Rulfio glanced at him. Corvo didn’t meet his gaze; his eyes were focused down on the blade. “He blames himself for what the Overseers did.”

“I know.”

“I don’t think I’ve helped either, you know.”

Corvo did look over at him this time, in question.

“I was hard on him after hearing about Billie and the men we lost. And you. I suppose he thinks I blame him for all that, as well.”

“Do you?”

“Of course not. I know he’s doing the best he can, under the circumstances,” Rulfio answered. “I was just angry.”

“So tell him that. Don’t make a big deal out of it.”

Always to the point, was Corvo Attano. Rulfio chuckled fondly, throwing another practice blade towards him. “Everything’s so simple in your head, isn’t it?”

“No. Everything’s just overcomplicated in yours.”

“Fucker.”

“You missed me.”

Rulfio shook his head. “Outsider’s balls, I did.”

Corvo granted him a smile, barely noticeable. He gestured for Rulfio to toss him another blade, catching it by the handle when he did.

“Enough about me, now.” Rulfio took in the sullen expression Corvo had once more adopted. The Whaler was clearly troubled about something. “What’s gotten you in such a shitty mood? Shittier than usual,” he added.

Corvo faltered, which had Rulfio becoming even more intrigued. He saw the Whaler’s fingers tighten slightly from where they held the sword and the cloth steady together.

“Something’s changed. Between me and–” Corvo paused, scuffing the toe of his boot against the ground. “Someone I know.”

“Someone you know.” Someone. Rulfio almost rolled his eyes. Still, he decided to humour him. “Changed how, pray tell?”

Corvo’s expression darkened as he considered how to word it. Then he gave a stiff and frustrated shrug. “I don’t know. Changed. I’m used to it being a certain way, and now it’s different. I don’t know what to do.”

Rulfio noted that the Whaler refused to make eye contact with him. “Do you like the way it’s changed? You’re comfortable with it?”

Silence, spanning for a while. “Yes.”

“Then what’s the problem?”

“Haven’t you been listening? I don’t know what to do.”

“Well, have you let Daud know this is frustrating you?”

Rulfio suspected he would be dead tenfold, if Corvo’s expression could kill. The Whaler remained silent, but his glare was answer enough.

“I’d tell him, in that case. I’m sure he’d appreciate your honesty,” Rulfio continued calmly, trying not to let a smirk creep onto his face. “And, I’m sorry, what is it you said again? Just tell him, don’t make a big deal out of it? Was that it?”

Corvo chucked the wrapped blade towards him, still glaring and looking by no means like he was about to stop soon. He prowled back towards the doors, shoulders pulled tight.

“Was this a helpful chat, Attano?”

“Yes,” the Whaler bit out.

“So what do you say, you ungrateful little shit?”

“Thank you.”

“I should fucking think so.” Rulfio watched Corvo leave, and allowed the smirk to form to its fullest.

Hours later, when dusk was setting in, Rulfio spotted Corvo heading towards the office. The Overseer disguise they would use to infiltrate Coldridge was flung carelessly over his shoulder. Rulfio grabbed Thomas by the arm before he could follow Corvo inside.

“Grab a drink with me, Thomas.” Rulfio watched the doors to the office sway closed. “I’m sure Daud can survive without you until tomorrow.”

***

Daud recalled the last time he’d felt some kind of affection for a lover. It was at a port in Morley, one he couldn’t remember the name of, during his travels around the Isles. He had been young, and the fisherman’s son had flashed him a smile from the other end of the tavern. The boy had dark hair and green eyes, as was common in that region. Their few nights together were spent in a blur; hazy passion, rutting between each other's legs, and little time for talking. But he had felt _something._ Something he’d not felt since, in all the years of wandering and killing that followed.

His fingertips traced the tattoos between Corvo’s shoulder blades.

It earned a muffled reply as the man shifted, half asleep and half in the waking world. Daud should have gotten up by now. Gotten dressed and downstairs to the office, to make sure the final plans were in order. They were going to Coldridge that very night. They had to be prepared.

He sank back into the mattress instead, trying to make out what he could of Corvo’s face beneath his hair. He resulted to tucking it back, pressing his lips against the creases between Corvo’s eyebrows; the slight arches that always made the man look pissed off.

Corvo mumbled something incoherent against Daud’s collarbone, continuing to sulk at being woken. His lips, determined to remain in a firm, irritated line, soon began to mouth against Daud’s skin, as fingers rubbed at his scalp.

“Forget Coldridge.” Corvo’s voice was tired, and lower than Daud had ever heard it. “Let’s stay here.”

“Tempting.” Daud’s hands seemed to be deciding for themselves where they wanted to roam; his palms were steadily sliding lower, until one was resting behind the taut thigh hooked over his leg. “Perhaps we should.”

They both knew they couldn’t. But for now, it was a nice illusion to pretend they could.

Daud didn’t remember when he’d fallen asleep the night before. He knew it had to have been after Corvo; he remembered the man shuffling into his arms, until there wasn’t a part of him Daud couldn’t reach. Daud couldn’t recall the last time the warmth of another body had been so welcome. Perhaps it really had been those days spent in Morley.

“You’re thinking about something. It's distracting.”

“I may tire of what a smartass you are sooner than I expected.” The words were softened with another kiss to Corvo’s forehead. “I was thinking,” Daud conceded, “that we should have been here a week ago. Were it not for those confounded interruptions.”

“In Thomas’ defence, they were quite important.”

Daud fervently disagreed. The way Corvo’s teeth were exploring his throat was much more important. A particularly hard bite drew out a low growl. “Infuriating thing,” Daud muttered, manoeuvring until he was braced over him.

He held Corvo firmly against the mattress, and took his time enjoying the feel of heated skin under his palms. Corvo groaned, and ground back against him, squirming when Daud brushed his lips over the back of his neck. One hand trailed to grip Corvo’s hair, the other moving down to drag the back of his knuckles between firm cheeks. After last night, they probably should have waited. But after the last week, Daud was past waiting, and if the sounds Corvo made were anything to go by, so was he.

Even so, Daud’s teasing was slow, dragged out, and he soon had Corvo rocking against the bed. A glance at his face revealed tightly shut eyes, mouth gasping against the pillow, with a deep frown somewhere between frustration and bliss as Daud’s fingers worked him open. Daud only pulled away to slide his cock between his cheeks, long, thick slides, eliciting a moan of desperation against the sheets. Soon, Daud judged neither of them could stand it much longer.

He pulled Corvo back into his arms, and the man turned gratefully to mouth his way up Daud’s neck to his lips, and his legs curled around his hips. Daud had enough sense left to use more oil, before sinking into Corvo’s heat, and neither took long to abandon themselves to it.

Outsider’s eyes, the men would talk when they found out about this. And of course they would find out. Daud had barely kept a hold of himself the last week, and still, he and Corvo hadn’t even lain together then. The consequences of this were already being written, yet all that mattered now was Corvo beneath him, his fingers digging into Daud’s shoulders as he moaned, unreserved, while Daud took what he wanted. What he’d wanted for a long time, he had realised.

Their movements lost any restraint from before, and Corvo looked like a gorgeous wreck beneath him; hair splayed over the pillow, muscles taut and trembling as he came hard between their stomachs. Daud’s hands gripped his hips bruisingly, desperate not to lose that rhythm, and he cursed into Corvo’s shoulder as he reached the precipice, gladly losing himself in the tightness and the warmth.

When they were coherent enough to move, let alone speak, Daud still didn’t get up. He should have. He knew there was much to do before night fell, and they’d have to make their way to the prison. But Corvo began to doze off again, and it seemed his heat was becoming addictive. Daud took in the sight of him, trusting, glaring once again, before holding him close and giving way to sleep as well.

The memory of that boy from Morley was all of a sudden gone; green eyes replaced with brown, and pale flesh forgotten in favour of Corvo’s olive skin.


End file.
